McSticks and Stones
by Cracked Corn
Summary: They were brothers in arms; partners and friends. When one attempts to murder the other, the team must act fast to find out why.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:- NCIS and its characters do not belong to me and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

A/N - This story was created for one purpose - entertainment. The first chapter is the lead-in and the next will have a lighter, more humorous overtone.

**McSticks and Stones**

The ding of the elevator drew the anxious medical examiner like a moth to a flame. Silently urging the doors to open quickly, he sighed in relief as the woman he was waiting for stepped from the car.

"Dr Mallard," she greeted with a cordial smile.

"Doctor Cranston, thank you for coming at such a late hour," he replied taking her elbow and leading her further down the corridor. "It's this way."

"Gibbs' message was typically short on detail," Doctor Rachel Cranston replied. "Care to fill me in?"

"I'm afraid we are still attempting to fit the pieces of this dreadful puzzle together," he said walking with such urgency that Rachel struggled to keep pace. "To the best of my knowledge, neighbors heard a gunshot and called 911. Fortunately, Metro PD was in the vicinity and were able to gain control of the situation before my expertise was required rather than yours."

"Did they give you any indication what caused this?" Rachel asked.

"I'm afraid not, my dear," Ducky said. "According to the officers' report, our young man was in such a blind rage that it took two of them to subdue him until the EMT's could arrive and sedate him."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Both Jethro and I attempted to speak with him, however, our presence seemed to deepen his agitation," he said, concern etched deeply on his face. "He is completely overwrought, quite…lachrymose, if you will. Of course, I do not have your experience in such matters, my dear, but it appears as though the lad may have suffered some form of emotional breakdown."

"What's the condition of the victim?"

"Thankfully, the bullet just grazed his bicep, however, he took a rather forceful blow to the head," Ducky replied. "He regained consciousness a few moments before you arrived."

"And?"

"As you can imagine, he is quite shaken. Jethro and the doctor are with him now," Ducky said with a nod towards the door. "They're in here."

Ducky opened the door and steered the psychologist inside. From where they stood by the door, the patient was blocked from their view as the young resident finished his examination.

"You're lucky," the resident said. "Couple of inches to the right and instead of sutures and a sling we'd be fitting you for a body bag. There's no sign of concussion but you've got yourself a sizable lump on the back of your head. I'll get you something for your headache and then you're free to go."

"Thanks, Doc," the familiar voice replied.

The resident nodded a silent acknowledgment to the others as he left the room and Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion as she recognized the man on the bed.

"Doctor Kate's sister," Tony greeted with a forced smile. "I had a feeling we'd be seeing you before too long."

Rachel turned to Ducky.

"I thought you said he had to be restrained and sedated?"

"I gotta tell ya, Doc, I'm a little hurt,' Tony said attempting to hide behind the humor. "Ducky tells you someone's lost their marbles and you automatically assume it's me?"

"I do apologize for the confusion, Doctor, but Anthony is the _victim_…not the _perpetrator_," Ducky clarified.

"I don't understand," Rachel said. "If it's not Tony, then who is it?"

Tony's eyes darted quickly to his boss as they exchanged a sobering glance. Walking to the far end of the room, Gibbs drew back the curtain revealing a one-way window into a padded cell. With an audible gasp, Rachel recognized the man mumbling to himself as he rocked back and forth rhythmically. His red-rimmed eyes darted wildly around the room as if he was expecting someone or something to jump out at him. Unable to hide her shock she exclaimed.

"McGee?"

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Gibbs reached for Tony's jaw and tilted his head toward the light to gauge his pupil response for himself. He listened intently as his agent continued his passionless recital of the events that occurred earlier that evening. The absence of the younger man's usual flamboyant personality was a definite indication that the attempt on his life, at the hands of his partner and friend, had shaken Tony to the core.

After closing a long and difficult case, he and McGee had decided to meet later that evening for a meal and a few drinks. Agreeing that McGee would swing by Tony's apartment to pick him up, they'd left the Navy Yard separately. Exhibiting his usual punctuality, McGee had knocked on Tony's door at precisely twenty-one hundred but Tony had been running late. He opened the door and told McGee to make himself at home while he finished dressing. As he made his way back to the bedroom he heard the distinct metallic click of a safety being released.

"I turned back and McGee was holding a gun on me," Tony said quietly. "At first I thought it was some kind of joke, I mean, this was McGee, right?"

"What happened next?" Gibbs prompted.

"I asked him what was going on but he wasn't making any sense. Said that I had it coming and he was gonna kill me. I saw his finger tighten on the trigger and I made a grab for the gun…it went off. We struggled, I managed to disarm him; told him to stand down but he kept coming."

Tony raised his hand to the back of his head and hissed as his fingers made contact with the large lump behind his ear.

"Last thing I remember before the lights went out is Metro PD kicking in my door."

"Cops who broke down the door said McGee made a lunge at you," Gibbs said, filling in the blanks. "You cracked your head on the coffee table…was all they could do to keep him from killing you."

Tony turned to face his team leader, the confusion clearly evident in his eyes.

"Boss, I swear I don't know what caused this."

"You're sure he was fine when you saw him last?" Rachel asked.

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stem the throbbing headache.

"He was _fine_, he was _normal_, he was…he was McGee."

"Whatever happened to trigger this obviously happened between leaving the Navy Yard and arriving at your apartment," Rachel concluded.

"Trigger?" Gibbs asked.

"From Tony's description it sounds like McGee may have had what we refer to as a psychotic break."

"Psychotic?" Tony repeated. "McGee? No way!"

"Many things can cause temporary psychosis, environmental triggers, such as losing a loved one or excessive stress. You said yourself that you'd just closed a difficult case…sometimes, when reality becomes unbearable the mind just breaks with it. There may have been a pre-existing vulnerability that we-"

"DiNozzo's right," Gibbs said dismissively. "Not McGee."

Rachel folded her arms across her chest defensively at the agents' refusal to consider all possibilities. Meeting Gibbs' hard stare with one of her own, she continued.

"There was no family history of mental illness when I reviewed his file for my team evaluation."

"Mental illness!" Tony exclaimed. "Come on, Doc, this is McGee! Dependable, responsible, can-hack-a-computer-with-one-brain-tied-behind-his-back, McGee! Whatever this is, it is _not_ mental illness!"

"Then how do you explain the fact that he tried to kill you tonight?" Rachel asked Tony. "How do you explain that?"

Rachel pointed to the padded room where McGee's body heaved in shoulder-shaking sobs. With his eyes never leaving his partner, Tony's face paled noticeably and he stepped away from the glass, visibly shaken.

"There's gotta be another explanation," Gibbs insisted.

"Okay…we'll need to rule out excessive alcohol, drugs, fever…" Rachel replied.

"Timothy's blood tox results were clear of any traces of drugs or alcohol," Ducky replied, thoughtfully. "However, a drug like Scopolamine can leave the victim in a state of compliancy where their mind is totally controlled and open to suggestion."

"You think someone drugged McGee and programed him to kill DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"It is merely a hypothesis," Ducky replied.

"Who would go to those lengths to kill Tony?" Rachel asked.

"How long ya got, Doc?" Gibbs quipped.

"Hey!" Tony objected.

"Scopolamine metabolizes very quickly and is often undetectable in standard blood and urine tests," Ducky added.

"That's true but the effects would have worn off by now," Dr Cranston said.

"We need to get the blood sample to Abby," Gibbs told Ducky. "Tell her to test for everything."

"I thought you'd say that," Ducky replied with a glance at his watch. "I took the liberty of sending the sample to Abigail earlier. She should be receiving the sample right about…now."

"If McGee was drugged, it had to be between leaving the Navy Yard and arriving at DiNozzo's apartment," Gibbs said turning to Tony. "Any idea where he went?"

Tony shook his head grimacing as his headache ramped up a few notches. His eyes widened as a thought occurred.

"Need his iPhone," he said. "Probie doesn't take a potty-break without referring to his electronic diary."

"It's not with his possessions," Ducky replied. "I signed for them myself."

"We find that, we find out where he went in those few hours," Tony added turning for the door. "I'll check his apartment."

"You'll do no such thing, young man," Ducky warned. "You have just suffered a head injury."

"I'll drive," the team leader said stopping to look worriedly at McGee in the padded cell.

Rachel placed her hand on the lead agent's forearm.

"Gibbs," she said gently. "McGee's best chance right now is if you do your job and I do mine."

Nodding his head he followed Tony to the door.

"Keep me informed."

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:- NCIS and its characters do not belong to me and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A/N – Thank you to all who reviewed or placed this story on alert. The story was created for the purpose of entertainment and laughter. No offense is meant and no aspersions are cast. So relax, have a laugh and enjoy this purposely OTT crazy ride.**

McSticks and Stones

Chapter Two

Ducky watched anxiously through the observation window as two large male orderlies accompanied Dr Cranston into the padded room. Like a frightened animal, McGee pushed himself into the far corner of the room and drew his knees protectively in front of him as he tracked her movements with swollen, bloodshot eyes. She cautiously approached him, mindful of not stepping into his personal space or crowding him.

"Agent McGee," the doctor asked quietly. "Tim, do you remember me?"

McGee nodded and mumbled a reply.

"Dr Cranston."

"That's right," Rachel smiled. "I'd like to talk to you if that's okay."

McGee eyed her suspiciously for a long moment before nodding his consent. Moving slowly, Rachel took a seat on the large foam rubber mattress.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

McGee choked out a sob.

"When can I get out of here?"

"I'm not sure yet," she answered truthfully. "Tim, do you remember why you were brought here?"

"I was defending myself," he stated anxiously. "You have to believe me! This isn't my fault!"

Cranston kept her voice calm as she pushed on.

"Tony said you'd made plans to eat out together but you pulled a gun on him. Do you remember that?"

"I told you, I was defending myself! It was him or me," McGee exclaimed. "_Why doesn't anyone ever believe me?"_

"Tim, I need you to calm down, okay?" Rachel said. "I'm trying to help you but I need to understand what happened. Now…did Tony give you any reason to believe that your life was in danger?"

McGee's laugh contained an element of hysteria that worried the psychologist greatly.

"From the moment I joined the MCRT my life has been in danger," he explained swiping at the traitorous tears that streamed down his face.

"You must have known that life as a field agent involved a certain amount of danger," Rachel said.

McGee bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"I never expected the danger would come from within my own team," McGee sobbed.

"From DiNozzo?"

The agent looked at her with such desolation in his eyes that she felt her heart constrict.

"From all of them…they all hate me."

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Hoping McGee's missing iPhone would help trace his movements from earlier that evening, Gibbs and Tony searched the younger man's Porsche that was still parked in the guest area of Tony's apartment block. Coming up empty, they proceeded to McGee's apartment and found Ziva waiting in the lobby.

"Abby called me," she said by way of explanation. "She thought you could use some help."

Gibbs nodded in reply and they took the elevator to McGee's apartment. Slipping his key into the lock, the team leader paused.

"Where's the dog?" he asked, still unable to refer to the pooch as Jethro.

"With McGee's sister," Ziva replied. "McGee was going to pick him up in the morning."

Entering the apartment they found no sign of forced entry or disturbance. McGee's laptop was left open on the coffee table and Tony was surprised when he pressed a few keys and the computer came to life.

"Must have left in a hurry," Tony said. "Probie always shuts down his laptop."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes as he noticed the site McGee had been reading before his departure.

"Found it!" Ziva called, walking from the bedroom with the iPhone in her hand. "It was on the night stand."

"Check any entries from the time he left the office to when he arrived at DiNozzo's apartment," Gibbs instructed.

Ziva looked up from the cell, her eyes dark with concern.

"What've you got?" Gibbs prompted.

"Doctor's appointment," she said. "A Doctor Jeremiah Burbury. Do you think McGee is sick? Has looked pale lately."

"He's always pale," Tony answered pressing the heel of his hand again his throbbing temple. "McGee makes the cast of Twilight look like they spent a week in a tanning bed."

"What kind of doctor?" Gibbs asked, feeling a stirring in his gut.

They waited as Ziva accessed the internet and uttered a curse in Hebrew.

"Doctor Burbury is a psychologist," she replied solemnly.

"Dammit! You got an address?" Gibbs asked already turning for the door.

"Yes, but-"

"DiNozzo, bring the cell and the laptop in case we need it."

"On it, Boss!"

"Ziva, call the doctor. Let him know we're on our way."

"Gibbs, it is after midnight," Ziva said, jogging to catch up.

The team leader stopped dead in his tracks and turned a no-nonsense glare in her direction.

"I will call him and inform him that we are on our way," she quickly acquiesced

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Dr Cranston waited patiently as McGee took several deep breaths to regain his composure. Her sister, Kate, had been very fond of this young man and Rachel vowed to do everything in her power to help him. When McGee had calmed sufficiently, the doctor continued.

"When I did my evaluation of your team, I saw no signs of any animosity toward you," she said calmly. "I agree that your team mates have rather…unique way of showing that they care but I believe they value you greatly as an agent and as a man."

"No!" McGee said, his voice cracking with emotion. "That's what they want you to believe. But they treat me like fodder; like I'm expendable."

"Tim, I know this is hard but do you think you can tell me specific examples of when you were made to feel worthless?"

McGee wiped his eyes with his sleeve, took another deep breath and shared some of his most heartbreaking memories since joining the MCRT.

_Several days of exhaustive investigative work had tracked a group of heavily armed gunrunners to a remote warehouse. Bringing the agency sedan to an abrupt halt at the rear of the building, the team quickly made their way to the trunk of the vehicle to prepare for the likely firefight. Gibbs, McGee and Ziva had donned their Kevlar vests and were checking their ammo when DiNozzo spoke._

"_Boss, we're a vest short."_

_Cursing under his breath, Gibbs clipped his senior field agent across the back of his head._

"_Damn it, DiNozzo! It's your responsibility to make sure the trunk is fully equipped!"_

"_Sorry Boss, must have miscounted."_

"_Hate to do this, Tony, but you're going to have to learn a tough lesson."_

_Tony lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, ready to face his punishment._

"_McGee!" Gibbs said turning to his IT specialist. "Give Tony your vest."_

"_But Boss, I…I could be killed," McGee uttered._

"_Yep…that'll teach DiNozzo to be more careful."_

Dr Cranston studied the young man's face.

"What happened next?" she asked.

"I was shot four times," he choked out. "But as my life's force pumped rapidly from my body I used my superior intellect to mentally calculate the angle of trajectory of the bullets. Ignoring the agony of shattered bones and torn flesh I took aim and killed three of the four gunmen. Only after ensuring that my team was safe did I allow myself to succumb to my critical injuries and I lapsed into a coma."

"A coma?" she repeated suppressing her shock. "What about your team?"

"They were filled with heartfelt remorse, weeping pitifully and keeping a bedside vigil as day after day and night after night I courageously clung to life. They promised they would never leave me exposed again but…they did."

"_Bomb squads on the way, Boss," McGee told the team leader. "ETA, ten minutes."_

"_That thing's going off in three," Gibbs replied._

"_Gibbs, you must let me try to disarm it," Ziva said._

"_I'll go with her Boss," Tony offered._

"_No. It's not worth risking the lives of NCIS' finest. I want you out of here now. Go! Take cover behind our car. I'll be right there."_

_Nodding their acknowledgment the younger three agents turned toward the vehicle._

"_Not you McGee," Gibbs said handing the younger man a pair of wire-cutters._

"_B-Boss?" McGee stuttered._

"_You gotta disarm the bomb," Gibbs instructed._

"_Boss, you can't do that," Tony protested. "You know how much we need McGee on our team!"_

"_Tony is right, Gibbs, how will we ever solve a case without him?" Ziva asked._

_Gibbs ran his fingers through his hair in frustration before replying._

"_We'll get Keating back."_

"_Oh…of course," Tony said giving the younger man a pat on the shoulder. "Well, look at it this way, McBoom, at least you'll be going out with a bang."_

"_Shalom, McGee," Ziva smiled pleasantly as she followed Tony out the door._

"_Please, Boss!" McGee pleaded. "You know I've never disarmed a bomb before."_

"_You got two minutes to learn. Go!"_

Dr Cranston's eyes narrowed but McGee could see she was sympathetic. He bit his bottom lip as his tears returned.

"Two lousy minutes…I almost made it, too," he said morosely. "I cleared the children from the nursery school down the block and helped an old lady across the street…but I ran out of time and I…I was forced to make a choice between life and death."

"Going back to the bomb or staying outside?" Rachel guessed.

"What? No! Of course I went back to the bomb," he said as a look of self-loathing appeared in his eyes. "I had to decide between saving myself…or a baby squirrel."

"The bomb went off?"

McGee nodded and wrapped his arms across his chest in a self-hug.

"To this day, every time I close my eyes, I'm haunted by the look of betrayal in that little squirrel's eyes."

"How did you survive the bomb?"

"I nearly didn't," he whispered. "Before I could dive for cover, the blast concussion threw me against the wall, fractured my skull and caused a brain hemorrhage that would have killed most men."

As he dropped his head into his hands and sobbed, Rachel held tightly to her professional demeanor as she recognized the signs of persecutory and paranoid delusions – both symptoms of a serious psychosis.

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Wearing a pair of blue and white striped flannel pajamas and a serious case of bed-hair, Dr Jeremiah Burbury hurried to answer his door before it was pounded off its hinges. He opened the door a fraction, then stepped back as a gold badge was thrust under his nose.

"Dr Burbury? Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," he said. "We need to talk."

"What is the meaning of this," Styles spluttered. "I told your agent when she called that I am unable to answer any questions regarding one of my patients."

"That patient is my agent and you were the last person to see him before he tried to kill another member of my team."

"He…he what?"

"How long have you been treating Agent McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"That's confidential information; I would be breaking my oath if I-"

"Cut the crap, Doc, psychologists don't take the Hippocratic oath and you know it."

"That's true but we are bound by an ethical oath to-" the doctor's objection ran out of steam when he met a pair of fiercely determined blue eyes. "Two months, I've been treating Agent McGee for two months."

"What are you treating him for?"

"Agent McGee's aversion-"

"Ha! I knew it!" Tony exclaimed. "Probie's McCherry is still ripe for the picking!"

"Tony!" Ziva stage whispered. "He did not say McGee is a _virgin_, he said McGee has _aversions."_

"Oh," Tony said with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Boss."

"As I was saying," Dr Burbury continued with an irritated look in Tony's direction. "Agent McGee has been undergoing hypnotherapy for his _a-ver-sion_ to heights. He came to see me earlier this evening and I…oh good Lord…"

"What?" Gibbs said.

"We were right in the middle of our session when I received an emergency call from another patient who suffers from agoraphobia."

"Agoraphobia is the fear of leaving ones home, yes?" Ziva asked.

"Yes," the doctor said. "She was hosting an agoraphobia support group meeting in her home for the very first time. It was a big step for her."

"What happened?" the Israeli asked.

"Well…nobody came," the doctor answered.

"What does this have to do with my agent?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"Nothing and…and everything. By the time I got back, Agent McGee had gone."

"Wait…you let McGee leave _before_ you could bring him out of the hypnotic state?" Gibbs hissed.

"I swear it was an accident. I was so flustered after taking that call that I completely forgot."

"How would being left in a hypnotic state affect him?" Ziva asked.

"He would have left here feeling very relaxed but…er…it may also have left him extremely susceptible to the powers of suggestion."

"Oh God," Tony uttered his face paling noticeably.

"Tony? You got something?"

"Boss, I think I know what caused this," Tony said heading for the door at a dead run.

"DiNozzo!"

Grabbing a fistful of pajamas, Gibbs dragged the doctor after Tony.

"Come on, Doc."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"House call."

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"Tim, did you ever talk about this to any of your teammates…ever tell them how you feel?" she asked.

"What's the point?" McGee answered. "I'm the invisible member of the team, remember? The one no one cares about and everyone picks on. Things like that happen all the time."

His eyes grew bleak with recall as another memory surfaced.

_Having stumbled onto a terrorist cell the MCRT was pinned down by enemy fire and Gibbs had taken a round in the thigh._

"_Gibbs, we are running out of ammunition," Ziva said her voice shrilled in panic._

"_She's right Boss," McGee added. "I'm down to my last clip."_

"_We need a diversion," Gibbs said trying to stem the flow of blood from his thigh. "Something to draw their fire while we make a break for the woods."_

"_I'll go Boss," Tony volunteered. "I'm the fastest."_

"_No!" Gibbs objected strongly._

"_It's the only way, we all know it," he replied._

"_You'd be committing suicide, Tony, I won't allow it. I won't lose the man I think of as a son."_

"_But Boss-"_

"_You hear me, DiNozzo? Those guys have automatic machine guns. You'll be mowed done before you get 20 feet!"_

"_We must try, Gibbs. If we do nothing, we will all be killed," Ziva said._

"_You're right," the team leader replied. "McGee?"_

"_Yes, Boss," McGee responded above the noise of the automatic machine guns._

"_You go."_

"And you went?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Of course, I went. I was given a direct order from Leroy Jethro Gibbs…the man who I admire above all else," McGee's expression hardened as he continued. "The man whose love, respect and affection has been denied me since I joined the MCRT…all because of one man. Tony DiNozzo!"

"You believe that Tony has somehow hindered your relationship with Gibbs?" Rachel asked.

"Hindered?" McGee laughed contemptuously. "DiNozzo sabotaged every attempt I ever made to get close to Gibbs and take my rightful place as his surrogate son."

"Can you tell me how Tony sabotaged you?" Rachel asked, noting a shift in the agent's demeanor.

"When I was appointed field agent status I saw the way Gibbs cared about Tony…the panic in his eyes when Tony contracted the plague; the way he yelled at everyone when Tony was handcuffed to that escaped criminal or left in the sewer to die. I thought if I could be more like Tony, Gibbs might care for me like that, too."

"And did it work?"

"It would have if DiNozzo hadn't conspired against me every step of the way," McGee said.

"How exactly did he plot against you?"

"When I lost weight - DiNozzo _gained_ weight; when I bought a classic car – his classic car got blown up; when I wrecked my relationship with my real father - Tony started making up with his."

"You really believe Tony did those things on purpose?" Rachel asked.

"He can't stand the thought that Gibbs might consider me a son or show some concern about me," McGee hissed. "When DiNozzo was found unconscious in that alleyway, Gibbs stayed at the hospital with him and brought you in to help him. When I got skewered by a shard of glass, all I got was a Band aid and back to work."

"Gibbs is terribly worried about you, Tim; he brought me in to see you, too."

"Only because I tried to kill DiNozzo! One of the happiest days of my life was watching Tony being shipped out as Agent Afloat. With him out of the way I finally had a chance to prove to Gibbs that I could be a worthy son. But DiNozzo kept whining like a little girl, telling Gibbs he wanted to come home. He even resorted to calling him Pa and Dad when we contacted him via satellite. Gibbs practically insisted that the director reassign DiNozzo back here and the minute he did, I was relegated to the backseat…_again."_

"So, you believe that you are unappreciated by your team mates?"

"Unappreciated?" McGee scoffed. "I single-handedly break every case - not just with my IT prowess but with my superior physicality, my insightful and intuitive interrogation technique and my ability to intimidate the most hardened criminals into submission. But it doesn't matter what I do, I get no credit, no commendations, not even a lousy attaboy."

"That must be very difficult for you."

"It is; but for sometime now my exceptional skills have made me highly sought after by the CIA and global intelligence agencies who often second me to perform crucial undercover assignments behind enemy lines – courageously taking perilous assignments for truth, justice and the American way."

"I didn't realize that you had been trained for such hazardous front line duties," Rachel said.

"It's a common misconception," he said with a shake of his head. "People see me and think mild-mannered computer geek. But what they fail to see is that beneath the surface beats the heart of an ultra-tough, bad-ass killing machine whose courage and stamina know no bounds. I have maimed people with my bare hands, withstood unimaginable torture and overcome horrendous hardship all in the line of duty."

"Then why did you try to kill Tony?"

For a moment McGee said nothing but his breath hitched and his eyes filled with tears.

"_Because he called me names and picked on me!"_ McGee howled as he dissolved into a puddle of tears and sobbed inconsolably.

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Leaving the orderlies to watch over McGee, Rachel excused herself and returned to the observation room to find Ducky with a comforting arm around Abby's shoulders. The forensic specialist's cheeks were stained with her tears and she wiped irritably at them.

"Dr Cranston, please tell me this isn't true…please tell me Tim's going to be fine."

"I'm going to do everything I can," Rachel assured her. "I take it you found nothing unusual in his blood sample?"

"Nothing," Abby told her. "I tested for every organic and manufactured substance I could think of – twice! Everything tested negative."

"I won't lie to you, this is definitely not the news I was hoping for," she told them. "It's almost as if he has been subjected to some kind of mind-control. He honestly believes every word he told me is true."

"This is definitely not the Timothy McGee we know," Ducky replied somberly.

"He's exhibiting signs of persecutory, paranoid and grandiose delusions and without any evidence of contributory substances, we could be dealing with an emotional breakdown or schizophrenia."

"Oh my," Ducky whispered as he tightened his arm around Abby.

"I'm sorry," Rachel continued. "But with Tim's violent outburst this evening, I'm afraid we have no choice but to have him admitted for psychiatric care."

The door to the observation room flew open and Gibbs and Tony rushed in followed closely behind by Ziva who was dragging a man in blue and white striped flannel pajamas.

"Might wanna hold off on that, Doc," Gibbs said.

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With the remnants of his headache still lingering, Tony showered, dressed and walked to the kitchen. He made a fresh pot of coffee and set the table while he waited for his guest to arrive with breakfast. The man didn't say he was coming but after all this time as partners, Tony knew him well enough to expect him. He smiled when, moments later, there was a tentative knock at the door.

"Probie!" he greeted. "Oh look, you brought breakfast."

McGee looked into the dining area and noticed the table had been set.

"You were expecting me?"

"Yep. Get your ass in here, coffee's on and I'm starvin' like Lee Marvin."

Tony noted the tenseness in McGee's shoulders and the way the younger man kept avoiding eye contact.

"How'd it go with the boss?" Tony asked.

"Exactly like you'd expect," McGee winced at the memory of the former marine threatening to put his foot up his ass if anything remotely similar ever happened again.

"Something else on your mind, Probalicious?" he asked while transferring the breakfast food from the Styrofoam containers to a couple of plates.

"Um…actually…yes. The boss told me that you figured out what happened and…" McGee took a deep breath and charged on. "Look, I know this wasn't really my fault but I'm feeling kind of guilty and embarrassed and stupid right now, okay?"

"Come on, man, don't be ridonkulous," Tony said placing his hand on his partner's shoulder. "Of course it's your fault."

"How could I have known that Dr Burbury would let me leave his office while still in a hypnotic state?"

"I'm not talking about that and you know it," Tony said. "The hypnosis was only half the problem. It was what you were reading on your laptop that pushed you over the edge."

McGee averted his gaze and stared at his breakfast.

"Tony, I-"

"I don't wanna hear it, McGee," Tony snapped. "I told you that site was dangerous. You gave me your word that you were through with reading fan fiction."

Tony looked at his younger partner noting his forlorn expression and the droop of his shoulders. He rolled his eyes knowing he couldn't stay mad and reneged with a put upon sigh.

"What the hell were you thinking, Probie? You know reading fan fiction makes you crazy…no pun intended."

"I can't help it, Tony, just don't get why my own fans write me as some sniveling, spineless mama's boy who lets a few nicknames get to me."

"Well, let's face it McGoo, you're not exactly brash and assertive," Tony replied.

"I can do brash and assertive!" McGee answered indignantly.

Tony huffed a laugh.

"Come on, man! When brashness and assertiveness were handed out, you were at the back the line saying…'after you.'"

"So…what? Are you saying I'm a wimp?"

"No, I'm just saying…sometimes in life, you have to play the hand you're given." Tony explained. "While I don't think you're a sniveling spineless mama's boy, I wouldn't call you a tough and intimidating macho man either."

"Gee, thanks."

"It's all about knowing your limitations. You ever watch Thunderbirds, McGee?"

"Those geeky marionettes?" McGee scoffed. "Even I draw the line somewhere, Tony."

Tony narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"I… might… have seen an episode or two," McGee clarified.

The senior field agent raised both eyebrows and the younger man capitulated.

"Okay, yes…I had all the action figures and a sizable crush on TinTin until I was 17, so what?"

"I'm just saying, writing you as an ass-kicking man of steel would be like having Brains pilot Thunderbird One and save the world…never gonna happen. I mean, Brains might come up with the idea but nobody flies Thunderbird One like Scott Tracy!"

"And I suppose you're Scott Tracey."

"Are you kidding me? _Gibbs_ is Scott Tracy...I'm Virgil, pilot of Thunderbird Two and Scott's right hand man."

The younger man looked thoughtful and then conceded.

"Maybe you're right," he said.

"Of course I'm right, besides, there's only room for one ultra-tough, can-do-no-wrong, take-no-prisoners bad-ass on the team."

"Gibbs."

"Oh, actually, I was talking about Ziva but…okay," Tony shrugged. "Look Probie, you can't let these stories get to get to you. They're _fiction!_The majority of these bear absolutely no resemblance to you or to our show."

"But they're _fan_ fiction, Tony! Stories written by my _fans;_the people who love me and support me through thick or thin."

Tony chuckled quietly but sobered as McGee threw him an irritated look.

"Sorry, thought you were talking about your dramatic weight loss."

"I'm serious! Are my fans so unhappy with aspects of my personality and my role on the team, that they have to resort writing these stories?"

"Lighten up, McGloomy, we all have stories where our fans exaggerate our abilities to superhuman levels and downplay everyone else's. And if you don't believe me, you should read the tags to Dead Air."

"Really, which one?"

"Take your pick, there's hundreds of them," Tony replied taking a long pull of coffee.

"Not like these. My fans write stories where I single-handedly turn the tide of the war in Afghanistan."

Coffee spurted across the table as Tony choked and coughed, causing McGee to thump his partner on the back several times and hand him a paper towel.

"I'm telling you, they either write me as a cry baby or Captain America," McGee said.

"They write me sobbing into the bosses chest," Tony countered.

"I'm a serial victim who can't stand up for himself," McGee fired back.

"I'm a belligerent bully," Tony replied.

"I've had anorexia."

"I've had bulimia."

"I've had brain tumors," McGee said.

"Heart and lung transplant, for me."

"I throw screaming tantrums."

"I become catatonic."

"I've been a woman," McGee said.

"I've regressed to my childhood."

"I was nearly killed by mosquito bites."

"I was…really? Mosquito bites?"

"It's still your turn, Tony."

"Oh...sorry man, I was distracted by the mosquito bites. Ah…I see dead people."

"I've been suicidal."

"I've been manic."

"I was held hostage in a woman's prison," McGee said.

"I was beaten up by a mean flight attendant."

The men turned to each other and frowned.

"Wait...those things actually happened, right?" McGee asked.

"A few seasons back, there was a very fine line between the actual scripts and fan fiction," Tony replied.

"That's true."

"Your turn Probie."

"Where was I? Oh yes, I uncovered a major terrorist plot."

"I joined the Navy Seals."

"I married Abby."

"I screwed Ziva."

"I hacked into Taliban headquarters."

"I screwed Ziva"

McGee paused and frowned again.

"You already said that, Tony."

"I know but I like how it sounds," Tony grinned.

"I've been pregnant!" McGee exclaimed.

"I had a hysterectomy."

"I was buried alive."

"I was abducted by aliens."

"I've been a werewolf," McGee said.

"I was a vampire."

"My father never loved me."

"My father loved me _way_ too much," Tony grimaced.

"I believe no one appreciates me."

"I have no self-worth."

"I was given the lead in my own team."

"I joined the FBI."

"I was-"

"Alright, I give up, you win," Tony said, shifting his chair so he could look directly at his partner. "Seriously, man, the fact of the matter is that we all have our specialties and the uniqueness or our roles is what makes our team successful. It wouldn't work any other way. Regardless of whether the fans love or hate our relationship, you and I are partners, friends and respect each other."

"You're right," McGee said. "Tony, I really am sorry about the whole, you know, trying to kill you thing."

"Forget it," Tony said waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, as far as I'm concerned it was _way_ better than the alternative."

"What alternative?" McGee asked.

"Let's just be glad you weren't reading slash."

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The End

**"Blessed are we who can laugh at ourselves, for we shall never cease to be amused."**


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